


The Life and Times of Drew Tanaka

by KNICITT



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Bittersweet Ending, F/F, F/M, Fluffy Ending, Gen, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Light-Hearted, On the Run, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sad Ending
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2018-12-04 20:29:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 1,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11562756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KNICITT/pseuds/KNICITT
Summary: Drew learns that the only way you can trust a man is if you have total control over him at ten. The following year she learns you must always be careful everyone is a threat. Drabbles ranging from 50-500 words on what Drew Tanaka's life was and what it could've been.





	1. Whore

Drew Tanaka abhors the dirty, old, gruff men with more money than mortality. She hates the stickiness between her thighs and on her face. She is disgusted by her boss' smug smirk when he collects money from her clients. She rejects being fourteen and masquerades as twelve hoping for mercy. There is none.


	2. First Encounter

Drew ran through a crowd shoving her way through the crowded streets of Brooklyn. She rounded a corner expecting a three feet fence she could hop only to come face to face with a large, black hound dripping spittle as its' red murderous eyes glared at her.

She took a deep breath, heart beating a mile a minute. Drew licked her lips and forced herself to make eye contact.

"I-ignore me a-and walk away," She said.

The beast barked out a semblance of a laugh louder than a gun. It advanced slowly savoring her fear.

Suddenly, a silver arrow from above pierced the beast between its eyes. It shattered into a fine gold mist.

Drew quickly looked up seeing a pretty, dark-haired girl looking down on her from a rooftop.

The girl in the silver parka swiftly vanished from sight.

Drew sunk to her knees adrenaline vanishing leaving her weary and terrified. She cupped a hand over mouth stifling sobs.

"I'm okay, I'm okay, get yourself together you're fourteen years old," She said as she smacked her face gently.

Drew stumbled to her feet using the alley wall as support. She hopped the fence in record time. She was late, her step-father would be pissed.


	3. God Be With Ye or Goodbye

It's impossible to move, to live, to operate at any level without leaving traces, bits, seemingly meaningless fragments of personal information. William Gibson

* * *

 

Drew ran up the three flights of staircase that lead up to her tiny apartment. She searched frantically for her keys, slamming the door open when she had located them.

"Ma...ma are you here?" Drew said.

Leslie Tanaka was usually anxiously waiting outside the apartment building until she came home.

A dark haired Japanese woman appeared with a frown that brightened when she spotted her.

"Drew, my beautiful girl," she slurred. "You're as stunning as your mom was before she left us."

She wrapped her arms around Drew who breathed in her scent of beer and cigarettes.

Drew sunk into the hug embracing her mother tightly as her happy moods were rare.

Her mother stroked her hair gently before kissing her forehead and letting go. She then slunk away back to the couch a bottle of beer hanging loosely from her hand.

She looked small and fragile wrapped up in a over-sized, ratty, blue robe as her dark eyes watched the blank t.v.

Drew walked to her room stepping over the passed out man on the floor. She sighed, grabbing a black book-bag off the back of her white door. She began stuffing it with clothes, water, toiletries, and the money that she had painstakingly saved over the last eight months.

She zipped up her bag and threw it on the dirty carpet. Drew pulled her long hair into a ponytail and flopped on her bed.

She grabbed her pillow and screamed into it, balled up her fist tight leaving deep imprints in her palm, Finally, she smacked her face gently bringing herself back to reality. Grabbing scissors Drew placed herself in front of the mirror on her.

"Mirror, mirror on the wall who's the fairest of them all," Drew mocked.

"Me," She said cutting off her ponytail in five quick snips.

Running a hand through her pseudo pixie cut she bent down grabbing her book-bag with her left hand. she peeked outside her bedroom door seeing her mother asleep on the couch. Trails of mascara on her checks showing she had cried herself to sleep. She walked lightly behind the couch. Looking down at her sleeping she smiled.

"Don't worry, Ma." Drew kissed her mother's cheek. "Aphrodite will pay for what she has done to us. I swear it on the River of Styx."

Thunder rumbled threateningly in the distance.

Drew pulled on her book-bag, taking one last glance at her peaceful mother she left out the door and her mother's life


	4. Apathy

_When you're surrounded by stupidity, self-preservation isn't a sin._

Meljean Brook

* * *

 

She doesn't understand.

 

She doesn't understand.

 

She doesn't understand.

 

Why?

 

Why?

 

Why is it that a girl who died a traitor is proclaimed a hero?

 

Is it because of her pretty face and too big but broken heart?

 

Or because of boyfriend who was punished with a watery grave for loving her?

 

/Poor Beckendorf/ Hephaestus was always doomed when it came to Aphrodite /aww/

 

Who really knows?

 

Anyone can be a hero with the right crowd and the right lies.

 

Look at Hercules!

 

Maybe if she puts armor to big for her and faces down a monster she knows she can't defeat she'll be herald as a hero too.

 

'No,' a nasty voice whispers 'that would be foolish'

 

But deep down she knows she is not and will never be a hero she is Prometheus, bringer of fire who will be damned and cursed but never forgotten.

 

She flips her hair and continues applying red gloss on her lips to make them pop

 

Silena was always their mother's favorite anyway

 

She blows a saccharine bubblegum kiss


	5. Join

_It's impossible to move, to live, to operate at any level without leaving traces, bits, seemingly meaningless fragments of personal information._

**William Gibson**

* * *

 

Drew ran up the three flights of staircase that lead up to her tiny apartment. She searched frantically for her keys, slamming the door open when she had located them.

 

"Ma...ma are you here?" Drew said.

 

Leslie Tanaka was usually anxiously waiting outside the apartment building until her daughter came home.

 

A dark haired Japanese woman appeared with a frown that brightened when she spotted her.

 

"Drew, my beautiful girl," she slurred. "You're as stunning as your mom was before she left us."

 

She wrapped her arms around Drew who breathed in her scent of beer and cigarettes.

 

Drew sunk into the hug embracing her mother tightly. The woman's tactile moods were rare and even rarer were her loving ones.

 

Her mother stroked her hair gently before kissing her forehead and letting go.

 

She then slunk away back to the couch a bottle of beer hanging loosely from her hand.

 

She looked small and fragile wrapped up in a over-sized, ratty, blue robe as her dark eyes watched the blank t.v.

 

Drew walked to her room neatly stepping over the passed out man on the floor.

 

She sighed, grabbing a black book-bag off the back of her white door and, began stuffing it with clothes, water, toiletries, and the money that she had painstakingly saved over the last eight months.

 

She zipped up her bag and threw it on the dirty carpet. Drew pulled her long hair into a ponytail and flopped on her bed.

 

She grabbed her pillow and screamed into it, balled up her fist tight leaving deep imprints in her palm, Finally, she smacked her face gently bringing herself back to reality.

 

Grabbing scissors Drew placed herself in front of the mirror on her wall.

 

"Mirror, mirror on the wall who's the fairest of them all?" Drew mocked.

 

"Me," She said cutting off her ponytail in five quick snips. '

 

Running a hand through her psuedo pixie cut she bent down grabbing her book-bag with her left hand. she peeked outside her bedroom door seeing her mother asleep on the couch. Trails of mascara on her checks showing she had cried herself to sleep.

 

She walked lightly behind the couch, looking down at her sleeping she smiled.

 

"Don't worry, Ma." Drew bent down and kissed her mother's sunken cheek. "Aphrodite will pay for what she has done to us. I swear it on the River of Styx."

 

Thunder rumbled threateningly in the distance.

 

Drew pulled on her book-bag, taking one last glance at her peaceful mother she left out the door and her mother's life


	6. Heh

Cold /adj/ :of or at a low or relatively low temperature, especially when compared with the human body.

 

DREW TANAKA sat in a small enclosed classroom in her button up white shirt and black skirt. She listened to her teacher, Mr. Hickley who spat more than spoke and often leered at his students. He emphasized that there was no such thing as cold. There was only heat and the lack of thereof. She didn’t believe it—if it could be felt and seen it existed. It made her wonder if hate truly existed or if it was simply the lack of love. The possibility stung more than her mother’s fists when she was drunk. If hate was simply the absence of love her mother didn’t truly hate her. She felt nothing for her. She wandered which was worse; indifference or hatred


End file.
